


Forced Apart

by Trista_zevkia



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Outside assistance, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1928784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the Angst War prompt:<br/>Ivy casts pollen on a couple that makes it impossible for them to be in the same room together for at least a week. They don't cope well.<br/>I might have missed the angst part of the angst war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forced Apart

“You’re not even human, and yet you’ve still managed to make their arrogance a part of you.” Ivy traced a fingernail casually across Superman’s lips, as if to tattoo her words there.

“You’re human, Ivy.” Superman said, trying a tactic that had Batman snorting in amusement over the comm. in his ear. 

“Once, I was human. I evolved. You seem intent on devolving, and quickly.” Ivy brought her finger to her own lips as she smiled. It was a feral grin and not the fake smile of seduction she usually used on men. “And just who are you devolving for?” 

“All life is important, even plants.” A tendril reached up the cover Superman’s mouth, and he muttered into it. As embarrassing as it was that the rest of the tendrils were what was keeping Superman tied down and unable to fight, Batman couldn’t leave it alone. 

“Good, she’d finally had enough of your empty platitudes. ETA 2 minutes.” 

Ivy had been running her hands through her hair; a move Superman thought was a self-calming gesture, until she leaned over him and shook. Dandruff or pollen drifted down to coat him, before melting against his body like snowflakes. Narrowing down his focus, Superman tried to see the flakes with his microscopic vision but they melted too quickly. He re-focused on Ivy when she stepped away, patting her hair back into its normal look. 

“I’ve yet to try this particular treat on anybody, so be sure to tell me what it does to you.” Turning away, Ivy picked up the chemicals she’d come all the way to Metropolis for, and rescued a dying desk plant on her way out. She almost purred at the potted plant. “Animals don’t understand the beauty of letting the wind direct your pollen.” 

It wasn’t a minute later that Batman entered, a shadow dropping silently through the hole Ivy’s plants had torn through the side of the building. Apparently, she’d been reading _Harry Potter_ , since Superman couldn’t think of where else she’d have gotten the idea to breed a whomping willow. Batman made his way to Superman, alert for any traps left behind. Superman wished for the paranoid man to get over his fear of telepathy so he could tell him that it was safe, they were alone, get over here and get the gag off already. 

Batman didn’t smirk at Superman’s predicament, but his first priority seemed to be getting a sample of the plant that held Superman, then a sample of the dirt. Superman cleared his throat, pointedly, and Batman knelt to get Superman’s legs free first. The plant fell easily under Batman’s blades, which made it all the more embarrassing that it held Superman so easily. When only one hand was free, Superman was pulling the tendril away from his mouth. 

“Don’t start in on your lecture about carrying tools for when walls are thicker than my head.” 

In reply to his annoyance, Batman only let loose with the smirk he’d repressed earlier. 

“I’m serious, B. Half the places I go would destroy the tools so they’d never be useful when I need them. Just figure out why this plant can hold me and I don’t feel sick like I do after kryptonite exposure.” 

“So you don’t think I should stop Ivy from greening Metropolis?” 

A rhetorical question, if ever Superman had heard on, but his super-human control kept him from rolling his eyes at the annoying man who said it. And if his growly little voice made Superman’s skin tingle, that wasn’t anything new. The burning was. 

“Huh, that’s weird.” 

“What?” Batman growled back, eyes alert as he reached into his utility belt. 

This was not a rhetorical question, so Superman hurried to answer. “She didn’t love dust me, she even said she’d never tried this before, and now my skin is burning.” 

“We’ll need samples.” 

Reaching up to scratch at the itchy spot behind his ear, Superman knew what ‘samples’ meant. J’onn being his doctor and shrink, while Bruce went all mad-scientist on the blood, skin, and everything else J’onn got out of him under the controlled effects of kryptonite. Swell. Realizing the itch had spread down his back and was almost to his buttocks; Clark didn’t really have a choice, except in which medical facility would hold him. 

“Let’s go to the Watchtower, since we’ve got a meeting in the morning anyway.” 

“I hope this doesn’t take that long.” Batman groused as he gathered up his samples. 

For all his griping, he wouldn’t let anybody else do the work, so it served him right. Clark hoped he remembered that thought when dawn arrived, and he’d spent the night being tortured by his well-meaning colleagues. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Bruce got him to the Watchtower infirmary and under the care of J’onn before heading to the lab with his plant and soil samples. The swelling was starting to go down, swelling Clark hadn’t even noticed until J’onn asked about it, and the itching was something he could ignore, when Bruce returned. 

“Well?” Bruce growled out, still in Batman mode, and this being as much concern as that creature of the night could express. 

Clark opened his mouth to reply, and began wheezing, since his lungs no longer pulled in enough oxygen. Clark found he couldn’t even hold his breath, as he could when at full power. 

“Batman, you might have some of the pollen on you.” J’onn stated. 

“There were traces of kryptonite in the soil that grew that plant and the radiation effected its growth, which is why it grounded him.” Batman told J’onn before sweeping dramatically out of the room. 

Clark would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t busy relearning how to breath. 

An hour later, Clark was fine and ready to do something else. J’onn was still running tests, though, looking for a cause even if Clark no longer had symptoms. A knock on the window had both of them looking up, even though the window was set on opaque. It could be shifted to transparent if someone was quarantined, but for privacy it was usually left looking like a wall. The pop indicated someone was using the intercom, and then Bruce’s voice was coming through the speakers. 

“Progress report?” 

“My penmanship is improving by leaps and bounds.” Clark shot back. J’onn looked at him, clearly not understanding the reference, but Clark couldn’t see it. His eyes had started to itch and water. Clark instinctively knew that scratching or rubbing them would make it worse, but for a second it would feel better. 

“It may sound like middle school to you, but Ivy doesn’t need another weapon.” Batman chided. 

“Batman, would you please enter the room?” J’onn called. His voice was considered flat, emotionless, but Clark heard the interest in his voice. 

Turning his head to glare his suspicions at J’onn, Clark didn’t see when Bruce entered the room. In a violent display where his muscles curled in on themselves, Clark sneezed. The tiny jump he did from the force of the sneeze, combined with his clenched muscles, caused the table under him to bend. Clark was pretty sure they were made of a heavy duty material, and he looked to Bruce to apologize. 

Through the stinging blur of his watery eyes, Clark could tell Bruce had changed out of his costume, though he still wore a mask. His next sneeze made it sound as if he had ripped the table under him, and he looked up to see the door closing behind a leaving Bruce. Clark waited, but no other sneeze seemed to come. Blinking, he realized his eyes were getting better, and he looked to J’onn. 

J’onn looked away from his monitors to regard Clark, before speaking to his JL comm. “The sneezing seems to have stopped, but I do not think you can return.” The way J’onn twitched, as if trying to move away from his comm. was a clear indication of who was on the other end. “I cannot speak to why, but it would seem that Clark is allergic to you.” 

Clark couldn’t help it; he laughed. 

“I would like to run tests, to see what you might have picked up.” J’onn listened to what Bruce had to say, and Bruce seemed rather more talkative than usual. “Agreed. I will perform the tests in the cave so that Kal may chair today’s meeting.” J’onn looked to Clark again. “I am to inform you that you will have to try harder to fake your way out of these meetings.” 

“Whatever helps his ego sleep during the day.” Clark muttered, knowing how much Bruce had hated the ideas of these meetings when they established the JL, even as he acknowledged they were necessary. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Batman called Superman to check on the meeting, exactly ten minutes after it had been dismissed. Superman was still in the meeting room, talking with his teammates, something Batman never did. As such, all his teammates got to see him break out in hives from hearing that voice growl over his comm. 

J’onn talked with Batman, and arranged for him to speak with Superman once a day, with Superman under J’onn’s watchful eye. Dawn was the time that their schedules aligned, and they all agreed it was necessary to track the progression of whatever was going on. Given the way the two fought like two starving tomcats over the same fish head, the JL thought they’d enjoy the break from each other. 

A week later, Superman managed to hear more than three words from Batman without turning into a caricature from an allergy drug commercial. His sigh of relief would have been echoed by most of the JL, if they had been around to witness it. The calls from Batman during the last week had contained an unexpected amount of condensation, snark, and several improbable suggestions for improvement. The truly unexpected and shocking thing was that Superman was showing signs of irritation, though this really meant his smiles didn’t reach his eyes. 

Since Superman could stand to hear Batman’s voice, J’onn took him down to the cave, to experience Batman in person. Perhaps, as Batman said, it would have made more sense for Batman to go to the Watchtower. If Superman relapsed, at least then they’d be in the infirmary. It sounded reasoning, but for some reason, J’onn insisted on taking Superman to the cave. A suspicious person might think even immortal J’onn was growing weary of Superman’s attitude, but the suspicious person who usually had those thoughts was tapping his fingers against his computer console, ready for the Boy Scout to show the hell up already. 

Superman and J’onn transported into the cave and while the three of them waited on Superman’s reaction, they ignored the arriving motorcycle. Batman’s alarms would have gone off it wasn’t someone authorized to be there. They waited, J’onn and Superman at the foot of the stairs so they were lower than Batman, but closer than they had been in the infirmary. 

J’onn was the first to stop waiting, announcing his relief with a very human sigh. “Please inform me if there are any further symptoms.” J’onn announced as he signaled for a pick-up. He faded from view, leaving Batman and Superman to stare at each other. 

Clark could have left, gone to his apartment and started his working day. Superman could have patrolled or returned to the Watchtower to see if there were any problems. Kal-el could have gone to his fortress and studied Kryptonian literature. Clark relaxed out of his crossed-arms Superman pose, resting his hands on his hips, to stare at Bruce. 

Batman could have ordered Superman out of his cave, punctuating the request with the appearance of a kryptonite ring. Bruce could have joined his family in raiding the fridge while breakfast was being cooked. Bruce could have gone to his bedroom for a few hours’ sleep before heading to his place of business. Costume on and cowl bunched up behind his head, Bruce could have gone for a change of clothes and a shower. Instead, Bruce slouched down in the chair he used while at the computer, looking relaxed even though his arms and hands hung off the ends of the armrests. The way his legs splayed open make him look relaxed, while taking up as much room as possible. 

The tension was broken by an unexpected sight; a figure in black sidestepping around them. Cass had changed out of her costume and into sweats, but now walked around them like an artist experimenting with perspective. 

“Can I help you, Cass?” Clark asked her, though he kept his focus on Bruce. 

“Distance in my eyes.” 

That got Clark looking at her, before turning to Bruce for a translation. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder?” 

“Distance can be relative to the observer,” Bruce countered. He then turned to look at Cass. “Can you show me?” 

Cass made a side-to-side motion of the head that she’d picked up in India, a gesture that meant yes and no, or more no than yes. A quick jump had her on the same floor level as Bruce, as she made vague hand gestures in an effort to be understood. Seeing their confusion wasn’t fading, she stopped and turned to Clark. “Stay. Fly.” 

Clark had an idea what she meant, but still looked to the expert in deciphering Cass. 

“Keep your body posture the same, and fly up here.” 

Clark followed Bruce’s instructions, landing about five feet in front of Bruce. 

Cass pointed at him and said, “Stay.” 

Clark nodded to show he understood, but she was turning around before he could complete the movement. 

“Bruce, stay.” Cass told him, seeing his agreement before he said anything either. Darting behind him, she pushed on his wheeled chair, pushing it five feet forward and a bit more. 

Clark realized he’d been leaning forward while he stared at Bruce, hands further forward on his hips than he normally put them, as if he’d be called on to catch something ethereal and his hands had to be ready. 

Bruce noticed that Clark fit neatly into the space between his spread legs. A simple rotation of his hands would put them on Clark’s hips. 

Bruce looked up to fumble out an explanation of why Cass had moved them around, just as Clark looked outside the signals from his own body for information. The kiss was accidental, and inevitable. By the time the kiss ended, Cass was upstairs, asleep in her bed. She was also oblivious those involved finally seeing what was so perfectly visible to her; that was the kind of love to strive for. 


End file.
